"You do this every time!" For a moment, she pauses. "You're right," I respond. "I'm sorry." Lightly gripping my hardness with my hand, I again positio... it at the entrance to her sex and guide it inside her, aided by the fact she is completely soaked. She seems almost surprised at the lack of punishment. It's almost as if she doesn't think there's going to be one. Using the moisture of her wet slit, I hold the base of my member once more, pull out and position it against her tight anus. For a. "You two okay in there?" Sarah called from the parlor. "Sounds like you're killing each other." "We're fine" Rita panted. "Thanks anyway." She licked my face clean again.That day, Sarah began to tell me about her life over coffee. She loved coffee. I learned to drink it from her.Sarah Collins was born in May of 1890 in Hopkinsville, Kentucky. Her father was a [blacksmith] who'd come there from Atlanta after the Civil War. In 1908, she'd married Charlie Babcock who had come to work in her dad's. More

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